


Misfired

by IchiBri



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, cupid Shiro, human keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 00:50:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13423203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IchiBri/pseuds/IchiBri
Summary: Cupid Shiro is bored with his job until a target file comes across his desk with the warning “May be attuned to divinities”. He’s skeptical of the human’s abilities and goes about his duty of shooting Keith with an arrow. But Shiro misses his target and realizes the warning was justified.





	Misfired

**Author's Note:**

> This was my fic I wrote for the Aphelion Zine

Love – in all its countless forms – came bundled as magic in an arrow.  Contrary to popular belief, love didn’t flow freely in the world.  It didn’t bloom from flowers; it wasn’t born from puppy kisses.  Its spark didn’t jolt hearts without a precise aim and steady hands to guide it.

That was where cupids came in.  Magical beings, much unlike humanity’s cartoon depiction, were closer to gods than fairies.  If humans had the ability to see them – which they didn’t – they might’ve mistaken cupids for angels.  For their long flowing gowns and feathery wings resembled the figures of stained-glass church windows instead of the chubby cheeks and diaper of the Valentine’s Day caricature.

One might’ve assumed the life of a cupid was filled with adventure around every corner.  Arrows flying and hearts dancing above heads, it was awe-inspiring for the first few weeks on the job.  But by the end of his first year, Shiro wondered why he didn’t pursue the career of swamp cryptid instead.  Crossing into the parallel plane of the human world to explore forests and marshes and appear as a blur in the background of photographs sounded far more exciting than tracking down individuals to shoot them in the chest.

Now that he thought about it, Shiro was simply a glorified assassin in a robe that was too short, golden gladiator sandals hugging his calves, and an arrow quiver settled between his wings.  He didn’t exactly strike fear into the hearts of men, but his aim was impeccable.  He easily rivaled a seasoned sniper.

Fingers tapping against his desk, he read through the next target’s file.

 

Name: Keith Kogane

Age: 21

Sex: Male

Coordinates: 43.0731° N, 89.4012°W

Arrow: Agape

Notes: Highly perceptive.  May be attuned to divinities.  Proceed with caution.

 

The attached picture showed a young man sitting on the grass with his back pressed against a tree trunk.  Bag abandoned at his side, an array of textbooks spilled forth upon the ground.  Legs stretched out and crossed at the heels, a laptop balanced on his thighs.

But a college student studying wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.  Shiro almost overlooked the gaze staring back at him.  The man’s eyes – like the clouds of a stormy sky – peered directly at the camera.  Tufts of bangs fell over an arched brow, and if Shiro didn’t know any better, he’d say the human caught the department’s intel gatherer snapping the photo.

He balked at the thought.  Divinities of the parallel plane were undetectable to mere humans.  Human technology – cameras, motion sensors, infrared, audio recorders – were capable of picking up traces of divinities.  But to the plain human eye, they were invisible.

This Keith fellow, he’d be just another target on just another business day.  That Shiro was absolutely sure of as he stood from his desk.  With one last glance at the file, he committed the man and his coordinates to memory before closing it and tucking it beneath his arm.

Through the rows of cubicles and down a long white hallway, Shiro walked to the armory.  Caged in by golden bars, an attendant peered up at the sound of Shiro’s approaching footsteps.

“Shirogane, Takashi.  Agape,” Shiro said as he passed the target’s file across the speckled marble countertop.

The attendant checked the file for arrow confirmation before turning to the seemingly blank white wall behind her.  With a quick brush of fingertips, glowing lines spread out from beneath her palm.  Soft purple in color, the lines created an intricate labyrinth – a puzzle only the trained attendant could solve.  She tapped the intersecting points until the lines changed from purple to black.

A jarring, grinding echo resounded in the small space as the sections of wall broke apart.  Some popped forward while others pushed back to rearrange themselves into another seemingly blank wall.  But when the attendant pressed her hand flat against it, the glowing purple lines reappeared to outline a rectangular opening.  That section of wall rose to reveal a single bow and arrow.

When the attendant lifted them from their pigeonhole, the wall closed with a clinking lock.  She stepped back to the counter and passed the weaponry to Shiro.

His fingers ran along the smooth, stained wood of the bow’s lower limb and up the black leather of its grip.  His bow wasn’t anything fancy.  Some of his colleagues had called it rather bland in the past, and Shiro supposed it was compared to their excessive gold tooling and extravagant designs.  But it was sturdy and reliable, and that’s all that mattered to Shiro.

He slung the bow over his back, settling it between his wings beside the arrow quiver.  When he reached for the arrow – fingers curling around its soft golden shaft – Shiro stared for a moment.

It wasn’t often he fired an agape arrow.  Philia and storge – love of friends and family – were an everyday occurrence.  Cupids kept bundles of those arrows in their desk drawers.  Even the self-love of philautia, the toying love of ludus, and the passion of eros could easily be obtained from a neighboring cubicle if he ran out.  But one arrow – agape – was locked away in the armory under strict regulation.

A love like agape was not something everyone got to experience.  As he placed the single arrow in the quiver, he didn’t know whether Keith was special or just plain lucky.

With weaponry in tow, Shiro turned back down the stark hall.  Past the cubicles of coworkers, he came to the portal connecting the divine and human planes.

It looked like a simple door frame, or at least as simple as solid gold could be.  And beside the frame, a numeric keypad was mounted to the wall.

Shiro’s prosthetic fingers tapped his target’s coordinates on the pad, each number lighting up when pressed.  As he pushed the last one, the space between the frame blurred.  The wall flickered and swayed, a mix of colors rolling over the base of white like clouds rolling across the sky.  Shadows encompassed the space as drops of color created ripples through the planes.  As the two worlds lined up, the image slowly sharpened.

Details came into clarity – a leaf floating on the breeze, faded paint on pavement, the glow of traffic lights, the sun glinting off the hood of a silver car.  Shiro walked through the frame, his feet stepping upon concrete.  As the portal fizzled closed behind him, the building’s heavy glass doors replaced it.  Thick columns supported the building’s weight and cast shade over Shiro.

After stepping out of their shadow, Shiro stopped at the top of the stairs.  Students – completely oblivious to his presence – littered the sidewalks and crosswalks.  He scanned each of their passing faces, his eyes darting from one person to the next.

And then Shiro saw him.

Across the street, Keith sat on the grass outside the residence hall.  A row of decorative bushes and shrubs blocked him from the view of the street to his left while the towering oak he leaned against shielded his back.  Shiro probably would’ve missed him had it not been for the keen eyesight required of cupids, and he supposed that was exactly Keith’s purpose in choosing a study spot.

Which only made it more difficult for Shiro.  From his position on the stairs, Shiro couldn’t safely aim and release the arrow.  Any one of the bystanders could step into the line of fire.  That wouldn’t be as big of a deal if his directive involved any other arrow.  After all, mishaps happened every day.  But an accidental philia firing wouldn’t lead to a mountain of paperwork and reprimands.  If anything, it was a shrug of the shoulders and a half-hearted “be more careful next time”.  But a misfire of an agape arrow would end his career as a cupid.

It was in times like this – when he had to survey his surroundings – that Shiro wished his wings functioned properly.  Almost absentmindedly, they fluttered at his shoulder blades.  The left, with its long flowy white feathers, stirred a soft breeze that brushed against Shiro’s calves.  But the feathers of the right – grayed and charred at their tips, clumps missing altogether – dragged against the air with a harshness Shiro heard as a low hiss.

He could’ve cursed his inability to fly overhead and let the arrow rain down on Keith from above, but it wouldn’t complete the job any faster.  So instead, he stepped down the stairs two at a time and weaved through the students on the walkway.  He crossed the street, obeying the human traffic signals, and walked past the tree Keith rested against.  Shiro didn’t stop until he came to the next crosswalk.

Then he turned toward Keith.  He stepped off the sidewalk, his feet crunching over the crisp grass as longer blades tickled the sides of his toes.  A single other student lay reading on the expanse of lawn, and Shiro stopped once he past them.

Finally having a clear line of fire, Shiro reached for his bow and then the arrow.  With a roll of his shoulders, he relaxed into a shooting position.  He placed the arrow on its shelf and pushed its nock onto the bow string.  As he raised the bow, he drew back the string and steadied his aim.

Looking down the arrow, he lined it up with Keith’s shoulder.  He watched its slight rise and fall with each of Keith’s breaths, slowing his own to match.  His lips mimed a slow count to three before releasing the arrow.

It soared through the air, easily cutting a path straight for its target, but the target moved.

With a click of his tongue, Shiro swore as Keith leaned forward to reach for a different textbook.  The golden arrow flew past Keith’s back, skimmed the fibers of his light flannel shirt, and embedded itself into the thin branch of a shrub.

Keith stiffened, and Shiro watched in curiosity that quickly morphed to disbelief as Keith turned his head to look at the arrow.  It faded before both their eyes, its golden color dissipating in tiny specks that fell to the grass.

When Keith’s head slowly swiveled to glare at Shiro, Shiro swallowed around a dry lump in his throat.  He froze, every muscle in his body tightening and coiling as if ready to flee in a heartbeat.  But a part of him questioned why the piercing gaze of a human sent a cold shiver down his spine.  He’d faced fare more terrifying targets – one of which who had a pack of growling mutts snapping at Shiro’s ankles – but those dogs might as well have been fluffy bunnies compared to Keith’s sharp scowl.

Shiro shook his head, quietly scoffing at the thought.  Keith couldn’t see him.

He’d chalk this whole thing up as a misfire, fill out the stacks of paperwork, and pass Keith’s file onto the next cupid in line.  As he slung the bow over his wing, Shiro nodded to himself.  He didn’t have to stake his career on a single target.  He considered himself lucky it was a shrub pierced by the arrow and not another human.  But luck might not stick around for a second try.

As Shiro turned to walk away, words spoken with spite stopped him in his tracks.

“Not even a sorry?  Really?  After you and your frat buddies harass me for weeks.”

Shiro’s eyes trailed along the grass to the oak tree.  They fell upon the target as he stood, shoulders squared and hand at his hip.  Brow furrowed, Keith stared at Shiro with an intensity the cupid couldn’t deny.

And yet, Shiro questioned it.  He arched a curious eyebrow as he hesitantly pointed to himself.

“Yeah, I’m talking to you.  See anyone else dressed for Halloween?”

“Halloween?” Shiro indignantly squawked.  Whether out of pride or stupidity, Shiro didn’t know why he stepped closer to Keith, why he closed some of the distance and felt the need to defend his gladiator sandals.  “Like I’d ever wear a cheap costume made by humans.”

Keith cocked a hip as he hummed.  “Sure,” he drew out the syllable as he held Shiro’s gaze.  But with his next blink, Keith ducked down to gather his books into his bag.  Casually slinging it over his shoulder, he brushed past Shiro, feeling the soft tips of feathers fleetingly caress his forearm.

Keith paused a step behind Shiro.  Without looking back, he said, “Take me out to dinner sometime, and maybe I’ll think about forgiving you and your buddies.  I’m sure you’ll know where to find me.”

Shiro’s eyes widened as he spun on his heels.  Lips parted, he stared after Keith as Keith raised a hand in a simple wave before jogging across the street.

To his earlier thought, Shiro finally had an answer.

Keith was special.

***

“One more try.  That’s it.  Do you hear me, Shirogane?”

“Yes, Sir,” Shiro bowed his head to his superior.

Shiro didn’t straighten until the other left the armory.  And then he wasted no time in claiming his bow and a new agape arrow.  But this time, he didn’t head for the main portal.

Shiro detoured through the staff breakroom to pick up a wicker basket before slinking down a side hall for a lesser-used portal.  Even now, he shook his head at what he was about to do.  But his curiosity in the human – in  _ Keith _ – was piqued to the point he’d risk a major reprimand to fraternize with a target.  And if he was caught, Shiro could always talk his way out of it by saying it was a plan to gain the difficult target’s trust.

But he’d cross that road when he came to it, or  _ if _ he came to it.

For now, Shiro crossed through the portal, feeling its haze stick to his skin as he stepped onto patterned carpeting.  He briefly glanced down the dormitory hall, seeing not another soul in sight, before turning his attention to the number plates on the doors.  If his information was correct – which it almost always was – then he arrived in front of the right door.

Raising his hand, Shiro lightly rapped his knuckles against the wood.  After a quick succession of three knocks, his hand retreated to the basket handle as he waited.

He didn’t have to wait long before the door was wrenched open and a scowling face greeted him.  But Keith’s pinched eyebrows smoothed, and an almost soft amusement settled in his smile.

“You actually showed,” he said with a little breathless laugh.

“Because you asked me to…” Shiro trailed off, lips quirking into a pout.

Keith’s gaze flicked to the basket Shiro held.  “Is a picnic your idea of dinner?”

“Maybe.  Something wrong with that?”  Shiro held his breath as he waited for an answer.  He couldn’t exactly take Keith out to eat at a human restaurant without blowing his cover as a divinity of another plane.

Keith hummed before saying, “I’m down for a picnic.  Did you have a particular spot in mind?”

“I thought I’d let you chose.”

“How gentlemanly of you.  Give me a minute, and I’ll be right out.”  With that, Keith closed the door and left Shiro standing in the hallway.

Shiro rocked on his heels as he waited, and thankfully enough, Keith was a quick date.

When Shiro looked up from the carpeting, he snorted at Keith’s button-up shirt.  All the colors of the galaxy mixed with the stars, and the planet Saturn sat over Keith’s left breast.  Black sleeves were pushed to mid-forearm, and its matching black collar was left unbuttoned.

“You’re in a bedsheet and have wings, so I don’t want to hear a single word from you,” Keith huffed as he shoved his hands in his jean pockets.

Shiro bit his tongue against the laughter threatening to bubble up his throat.  Odd, he thought.  Shouldn’t he be offended at his attire being referred to as a bedsheet?

“It suits you,” he found himself saying.

“Ah… thanks,” Keith quietly muttered as he rubbed at the back of his neck, a light dusting of color forming over his skin.  “You too, oddly enough,” he added with a chuckle.

Shiro smiled as he followed Keith down the hall.  “So, uh, I’m sorry about my… frat buddies.  It was a prank that went too far.”

Keith rounded the hall before leading Shiro through a stairwell door.  Softly humming, he glanced back at Shiro with a sidelong stare.  “Your frat buddies, huh?  Not gonna apologize for being a part of it?”

“I–” Shiro stopped in his tracks as his mind blanked.  But he shook his head before bounding up a flight of stairs to fall in behind Keith once more.  “I’m sorry.  It was a… job… kinda.”

Keith nodded his head in acknowledgement but otherwise remained silent, and Shiro wasn’t sure if that was a good sign.  He searched the other’s stance for the slightest of clues, but Keith gave nothing away.  Even with every glance over his shoulder and not-so-secret gaze as they rounded each landing, Keith kept his thoughts and emotions in check.

As they walked up the last flight, Shiro’s brow furrowed with gnawing suspicion.  Keith was too in control.  The tight, almost stern, line of his lips wasn’t Keith’s natural default.  Shiro had seen it in the photographs – how Keith’s bottom lip tended to stick out in a pout or how it rolled between the bite of his teeth.  He’d seen Keith’s eyes narrow at the pages of textbooks, seen Keith’s head loll back as he gazed softly at a bird preening in the branches above.  He saw the relaxed shoulders, slightly slouched against the tree as if it was the most comfortable place to be.

But as Keith opened the door to the rooftop, his muscles were tight and tense.  The very hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and Shiro would bet his bow that if he tapped Keith’s shoulder, Keith would punch him in the nose on reflex.

“It’s no fancy rooftop garden or lounge, but it’s private,” Keith said as he walked out upon a sea of small, rounded pebbles.  He stopped at the parapet wall bordering the roof and leaned his hip against it.

Shiro followed, whether drawn to Keith or the view he wasn’t sure.  But then again, as he paused a few steps behind Keith and saw the glow of the afternoon sun in his hair, Shiro supposed Keith was part of the view.

A university town cityscape differed greatly from that of a business-oriented district.  Where Shiro was used to congested skies and concrete jungles, he marveled at the historic brick buildings and strips of greenery with trees reaching their branches toward the heavens.  And on the horizon, the sun glinted off the water of a lake.  Even from his distance, Shiro could see the glittering ripples made by the wind which ruffled his white tufts of bangs.

After setting the wicker basket on the ground, Shiro pressed his palms flat atop the parapet.  He leaned over the wall and looked down upon the sidewalks and streets, chuckling softly at how small the humans and their bicycles and cars looked from ten stories above.  He’d been in skyscrapers and towers much higher than this residence hall, but never before on the roof with a refreshing breeze caressing his cheeks and the warm rays of the sun soaking into his skin.

As his eyes trailed further and climbed the bricks of a repurposed cathedral, Shiro was reminded of his time in the sky soaring among the clouds.  As a young adolescent, he’d taken for granted the bird’s eye view allotted to cupids and other divinities by their wings.  But now as he gazed out upon a picturesque scene reminiscent of the rich colors and grandeur of baroque paintings, Shiro remembered the elation and euphoria of seeing the world from a god’s point of view.

“Beautiful,” he quietly breathed, as if any louder would shatter the serenity to pieces.

“You must see better views on a daily basis,” Keith said just as softly.

“I wish.”

“Really?” Keith arched a brow as he turned his back to the wall.  Propping his elbows on the ledge, he leaned back with a curious tilt of his head.  “But I thought cupids could fly.”

Shiro calmly drew in a breath before releasing it a little wistfully.  “I can’t anymore.  Not since the–”

Eyes widening almost comically, Shiro’s words died in his throat.  His head swiveled in disbelief as he gaped at the growing smirk upon Keith’s face.  “I mean, haha,” he awkwardly laughed as he straightened like a board.  He rubbed at his neck and averted his gaze to the pebbles at his feet.  “Just playing along.  Not like I can fly, or could ever fly.  Cause I’m human,” he ended with a forced laugh.

“You’re about as good a liar as I am,” Keith said, his amusement evident in his light and airy tone.

Shiro cursed his lapse of mind.  He should’ve known better.  He  _ did _ know better.  But being so close to the clouds in the sky, he thought he could touch them if only he reached out his hand, and that had been his downfall.

“I’m telling the truth.  I’m human.”

“Uh-huh.  Cause it’s normal for someone to refer to things as human.  Don’t think I haven’t picked up on that.”

Shiro’s fingers twitched.  His throat grew dry as he swallowed.  Could he pull the bow from his back and ready the arrow faster than Keith could defend himself?  Shiro doubted it.  The moment he reached for the bow, he was sure he’d be seeing stars from Keith’s fist.

“Also, my roomie insisted he didn’t see any frat guys walking around dressed as cupids even though one of you stood right in front of him.  So yeah, you guys need to up your incognito game.  Maybe lose the bedsheets and bird feathers.”

Shiro bristled at Keith’s words, his lips pulling back and eyebrows scrunching.  “Our wings aren’t detachable.  And for your information, you’re not supposed be able to see me.  You’re the outlier here, not your roommate.”

“So, what are you gonna do about it?” Keith asked nonchalantly, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed his calm tone.

Shiro heaved a slow sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose.  His eyes squeezed shut, and a dull ache pounded in his forehead.  What, indeed?

Doing his job would be ideal.  But in this situation, it’d be safer to walk away.  But could he?  Could Shiro pass Keith’s file onto the next cupid in line and forget about the human with exceptional eyes?  Maybe the real question was did he want to?

“Gonna blind me?  Throw magical pixie dust in my eyes?  Or cut out my tongue so I can’t speak of fairy cupids and their non-detachable wings?”

Shiro blinked at the forced familiarity and the slight upturn of Keith’s lips.  For a human in such a predicament, Keith sure had a smart mouth.

“And where would I keep pixie dust in these bedsheets?” Shiro countered with an arched brow and a crooked smile.

Keith’s lips parted to reply but smacked shut once he apparently thought better of his answer.  His eyes downturned as his tongue peeked between his lips to wet them.  With a reserved sigh, he pushed himself off the parapet and turned to face Shiro.  “But seriously,” he began, his eyes slowly trailing upwards to meet Shiro’s, “what are you gonna do about it?”

“Who says I have to do anything?”  Cupid law, actually.  Humans with a confirmed sensitivity to divinities were to be blacklisted and avoided at all costs.  Now that Shiro thought of it, if he went back without results and reported the truth about Keith, he wouldn’t have to pass Keith’s file onto another cupid.  He’d be putting it through the shredder.

“I mean, there’s got to be some kind of protocol for people like me.  Right?” Keith bit his lip as his eyes wavered, flicking between the clouds and Shiro.

Shiro pursed his lips and turned to lean his lower back against the wall.  After crossing his arms over his chest, he asked, “Why’d you ask me on a date if you knew I wasn’t human?”

“I didn’t think you’d actually come,” Keith said, his voice pitching with his astonishment.  “If anything, why’d you show up?  Aren’t you fraternizing with your target?  Shouldn’t that be frowned upon?”

Shiro shrugged his shoulders.  “You intrigued me.”

Head tilted slightly, Keith’s eyes narrowed with confusion.  His gaze searched Shiro, for what Shiro didn’t know.  But Shiro still marveled at the soft vulnerability he found looking his way.

“So…” Keith trailed off.  His eyes averted to the side before darting back to Shiro.  “What now?”

With a deep inhale, Shiro’s eyes fell shut.  As he released the breath, he blinked his eyes open and straightened from the wall.  “My job, I guess,” he said and then reached behind himself for a single arrow in the quiver.

As Shiro retrieved the arrow, Keith stiffened.  His entire body went rigid as his eyes widened like a deer in headlights.

Holding it in his grasp, Shiro rolled the arrow between his fingers.  He looked down upon its soft golden shaft and royal purple vanes.  His eyes focused on the sharp tip, poking it lightly with a prosthetic finger.  But then both his hands closed around the arrow, and in one quick motion, he snapped it in two.

Gold flakes and specks fell from between Shiro’s fingers.  They fizzled to the pebbles at his feet, but the remnants faded before touching the ground of the roof.

Shiro unclenched his fingers, and the last specks disintegrated with the soft breeze that blew through his bangs.  When he raised his gaze to Keith, he saw the wind caressing Keith’s hair and brushing delicate fingers upon his cheeks.  Between the strands, Keith’s eyes widened before softening at their edges with each flutter of his lashes.

A quiet puff of air escaped Keith before he smiled.  “I don’t think that was your job,” he said, his words mere whispers but each syllable was filled with pure wonder.

“I’m thinking of a change in careers.”  Shiro bent down to open the picnic basket and retrieve the thin, plaid blanket from within.

As he set it upon the pebbles, Keith helped to smooth out the opposite end.  “Oh?” Keith arched an eyebrow as he lowered himself to the blanket, sitting cross-legged.  “And what might that be?”

“Swamp cryptid,” Shiro said with a boyish grin.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading~ You can find me @ichibri on tumblr & twitter


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